


Elevator

by cuttothequickk



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Because feelings are hard, Concussions, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Elevators, Explaining your feelings away as just a concussion, Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Pre-Slash, Pretend Concussion, Realizations, Slash, Sort Of, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttothequickk/pseuds/cuttothequickk
Summary: Shizuo wakes up in a place he shouldn't be.





	Elevator

Shizuo wakes up in a place he shouldn’t be.

It’s an old office building, maybe, and he can see the Tokyo skyline from the shattered window to his right, so he’s not too far from home, but still. He can’t remember anything. There’s a blur of pain and adrenaline and an explosion of pressure at the back of his head, and then there’s nothing.

Shizuo picks himself up from his position on the floor and sees a stain of blood that has him reaching to trail trembling fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Sure enough, his fingers come away wet. Shizuo thinks through his name and his birthday, and, when he finds those pieces of information intact, he runs through the same information for his mom and dad and Kasuka. It’s easy.

Okay, so he’s probably fine. Still. He has to get out of the building, because it’s kind of hot and the air is heavy in a way that makes Shizuo feel like something’s off, even if he can’t identify what that might be.

He stands up and finds that he’s not even really dizzy, so yeah, he’s definitely fine despite his apparent head wound. He makes it around the corner of the hallway and heads for the stairwell, but it’s blocked off by a bunch of desks and there’s a chain on the door, and overall it looks a little bit troublesome to try to get through all that, so Shizuo turns around to search for another stairwell.

He’s fairly far down the hallway when he smells it. The smoke smells nothing like the ever-present dry tang of Shizuo’s cigarettes, or of any cigarette: it’s a thick, powerful, dark black smoke so heavy in the air that Shizuo can see it as he continues down the hall. He rounds the corner and then there’s the sound, a sound Shizuo finds strangely horrifying even though it’s really not that different from that of a campfire like the ones he and his dad had built when they went camping in Gifu when Shizuo was a child.

Shizuo fights his way forward only a few more steps before he realizes how serious his situation is. He’s not trapped in a building that’s just one fire—he’s trapped in a building that’s burning down. He sees beams falling down to the floor, the flames licking closer and closer, and then Shizuo is turning and sprint back towards the stairwell, his only hope.

The flames chase him fast enough that Shizuo knows it isn’t a normal fire. Someone wanted him here, and they must’ve attacked him and left him here, and they’re blocked the stairs, and he could jump out a window but he’s twelve stories up, and that’s pushing it even for him.

It’s the elevator shaft or nothing, then, and Shizuo pries open the doors with minimal effort and sees a ladder and realizes that, yeah, this really isn’t so bad. There’s no sign of flames in the shaft, no smoke either, and Shizuo starts climbing down the ladder.

He estimates that he’s climbed down maybe six stories when he encounters the problem: the elevator car is trapped in the shaft with him, not moving, blocking off the shaft so that Shizuo can’t get past it. He can see the emergency exit on top of the box easily enough in the glow of emergency light strips along the edges of the elevator shaft, but even if he can get inside the box, he might not be able to get out through the doors, and then he’ll have to backtrack. He looks up to where the last set of elevator doors was—a good thirty feet above him, actually, so this must be one of those elevators that only lets you get off on certain floors. The likelihood that he can get into the car and then out through the normal doors is low, but he hears the sounds of a settling building and decides he may as well check just in case he gets lucky. It beats having to climb all the way back up in order to go find a different elevator shaft or something.

The emergency exit panel is easy enough to open, the mechanism holding it closed no match for Shizuo’s strength even if it’s meant to be opened from the inside, and then Shizuo is dropping his legs through and jumping down into a crouch, hoping his weight won’t jostle the elevator and make it move or even fall from where it’s hanging, but then he’s in and there’s no movement at all, not even the normal soft adjustment of an elevator in motion coming to a halt. Everything is silent, and the elevator is lit with dim emergency illumination, and Shizuo looks at the doors in front of him with single-minded focus so intense that he almost doesn’t hear the moan.

But there’s the sound of someone shifting, too, like cloth on carpet, and it’s enough to whirl Shizuo around, his eyes immediately going to a dark-haired figure collapsed on the floor, skin ghostly white against an ensemble of dark clothes.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Shizuo asks, voice jumbled on shock and concern. He drops down to his knees and crawls towards the figure on the floor, slowly so that he doesn’t surprise them.

At first the dim light and the shadows of the person’s coat make Shizuo think it’s a girl, but then Shizuo sees the familiar glint of a silver ring on the finger of a hand pressed into the person’s stomach, and he’s looking up into the eyes of someone he should’ve recognized immediately, what with the glossy black hair and the fur around the collar of the black jacket.

“Izaya?” Shizuo asks, jerking back a little bit so he’s sitting on his heels.

Izaya groans a little and barely manages to look up. He looks dazed and out of it, the hand not pressed to his stomach resting limp on the floor next to him. Shizuo can see something dark and viscous staining the carpet, the glint of liquid turned almost black by the dim light in the enclosed space of the elevator car.

“Izaya,” Shizuo says again, ducking his head down to hold eye contact even though Izaya can hardly hold his head up. Shizuo reaches out without thinking and takes Izaya’s chin in his hand. He feels the weight of Izaya’s head resting heavy between his fingers, sees Izaya’s eyes close in what might be resignation, the vulnerability of his position here apparent to both of them. Shizuo could end this right now. He could shift his hand forward by only an inch, maybe two, and choke the life right out of Izaya’s body, not that there appears to be much life left in him. A shudder in the building makes the elevator drop a little, and Izaya coughs as a tremor jerks through him. His breathing is wet and labored, and a little burst of dark blood runs out around the fingers pressed into his side.

Shizuo moves his hand.

But it’s only to help Izaya rest his head back against the wall so he’s not straining his neck letting his head hang forward like he was, and then he’s pulling Izaya’s hand away from his side and tugging up his black shirt to reveal a short but apparently deep stab wound, the jagged edges of it dark against pale skin stained with blood. Shizuo sucks in a breath and looks around for something that might help stop the bleeding, but of course there’s nothing. The only thing he has is his own vest, the vest Kasuka had gotten for him, an item he’s prized for so long he can hardly imagine not having it.

He doesn’t hesitate as he pulls the vest off and presses it into Izaya’s wound with more pressure than Izaya was managing on his own, and the pain makes Izaya gasp and blanch like he might be sick. Shizuo puts his other hand on Izaya’s feverish cheek and guides Izaya’s head forward so they can make eye contact, and this time Izaya’s gaze is sharp on pain and locked with Shizuo’s.

“Breathe,” Shizuo commands. His voice is rough, gravelly. He doesn’t sound gentle. Izaya looks like he’s going to protest, so Shizuo digs his thumb into the hollow of Izaya’s cheek. “With me,” Shizuo says, and then draws a deep breath, the motion exaggerated so Izaya can track the slow pace and copy it. Shizuo is a little bit surprised when he does. Izaya doesn’t even protest.

“Can you talk?” Shizuo demands. “Why are you here?”

Izaya coughs and a dribble of blood traces its way down his chin. Shizuo wipes the sticky red away with his thumb, but even once the droplet is gone, a stain of crimson remains. “Got stabbed,” Izaya chokes out, his left hand twitching where it’s limp on the elevator floor.

Shizuo huffs. “Yeah, I can see that. Why are you here?”

“I shouldn’t have gone out,” Izaya says, as if this answers the question. Shizuo scowls.

“Izaya,” he says, moving the hand on Izaya’s cheek so it’s tugging at his hair a little. “Focus.”

Izaya’s eyes flutter closed, a wry smile showing off blood-stained teeth. Izaya looks so different like this, less black-and-white and more shades-of-gray. If Izaya is normally a model-stunning portrait filtered with avant-garde contrast hanging around the city for everyone to admire, he is now a badly-edited selfie posted on Instagram. Or maybe, Shizuo thinks, he’s a part of the real world for once. He’s still beautiful in that delicate and cunning way of his, even Shizuo can admit that, but he looks solid and breakable and—not breakable. Broken.

“I—I can’t,” Izaya says, “I don’t…”

“Try harder,” Shizuo says. It’s still harsh. He sounds so angry, so rough, even though he’s trying to be gentle. The realization strikes a pang of disappointment through his chest. He wonders if he even has it in him to be gentle at all, ever. But maybe it’s just because it’s Izaya. Maybe if it were Kasuka or even Shinra, he wouldn’t sound this bad. It’s a reasonable explanation. It’s not an excuse.

But still.

He follows his own advice. He tries harder.

“Izaya-kun,” he says, cradling Izaya’s skull like it could break in his fist. It could. He rubs a thumb against Izaya’s temple and leans in a little so he can lower his voice even more. “Izaya-kun, stay with me. How did you get here? Who did this to you?”

Izaya’s eyes slide out of focus again, but then he blinks and takes a breath and a little bit of clarity comes back into his gaze. “Does it matter, Shizuo?”

He’s got a point. “Are they still here?”

Izaya makes a sound that’s maybe supposed to be a laugh. “I would venture to say they’re long gone.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“Do you?”

Shizuo shakes his head. “I can’t remember anything since I got home from work, but that was, like, four o’clock this morning. At least, I think it was this morning.”

Izaya nods. “Sounds about right. They got me the same way, except they held me captive for a week before dumping me here. They must have been holding me until they could get you and then kill both of us at once.”

“Why the burning building, though? Why are you stabbed? Why didn’t they just kill us?”

Izaya grins all bloody again. “Think about it, Shizu-chan. You’ve chased me around this city for years now, and we’re always trying to kill each other. How unfortunate that you chase me into a building that’s a fire hazard and accidentally kill us both.”

“Someone set this up?”

Izaya somehow manages to roll his dazed eyes. “Yes, Shizu-chan. Do try to keep up.”

Shizuo purses his lips, and Izaya coughs a little so that his lips turn darker red. “Shit, you’re still bleeding.”

Izaya’s shoulders slump, and Shizuo realizes he’s been holding himself tense all this time. “Yeah. They really aimed the knife with more finesse than I would’ve expected out of dumb brutes. Dumber than you, even, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo doesn’t even feel the urge to roll his eyes. Izaya is a lot less annoying when he’s bleeding out on the floor of an elevator. “How did they even get us?” Shizuo muses. “I just remember being exhausted and collapsing into bed, and then I woke up here. I have no idea if anything happened in between those events.”

Izaya closes his eyes. “Probably, but you look a little weird right now, Shizuo. You probably have a concussion. Maybe some mild amnesia.”

Shizuo stares. He doesn’t feel like he has a concussion, but then maybe that explains why he’s acting so gently towards Izaya right now. Or trying to, at least.

Izaya swallows and makes a face like something tastes sickening, which—okay, he’s probably swallowing blood, so yeah. That’s pretty terrible. Finally, he speaks: “They got me from my apartment, because I was…well. Anyways. They got me and then they kept me in a basement for a week, and they were idiots, but they held me pretty easily because they were strong idiots, not unlike you, Shizu-chan, and…shit, this hurts,” Izaya says, coughing a little again. More blood spills from his mouth. The elevator gives a little shudder. Shizuo swallows hard.

“You were what, Izaya? How did they get you?”

Izaya winces, face suddenly closed off in a way Shizuo has never seen before.

“Drunk, okay? I was drunk,” he admits after Shizuo stares him down for a few seconds. “I went out and when I got back they were waiting and I was too drunk to fight them off.”

He looks so uncomfortable that Shizuo thinks he can take pity for once. Especially considering the fact that Shizuo suddenly wants to know what Izaya is like when he’s had a few glasses of sake. He blames the concussion.

Shizuo sighs. “Okay, look, you can tell me everything later, because right now we really just need to get out of here,” he says, looking back at the doors. “I can pry the doors open and—”

“You’ll never get me out, Shizuo,” Izaya says. The building groans a little, the floor shifting almost like they’re in an earthquake. Shizuo looks back at Izaya. His dark hair is dirty and limp over his face, and it’s longer than Shizuo has ever seen it. Curled small and vulnerable on the floor like this, Izaya could almost be one of his sisters, and Shizuo feels a tug in his chest. He thinks of Kasuka, of his parents. Of how they would feel if Shizuo were the one dying on the floor of an elevator in an old, collapsing building.

“I can,” Shizuo says.

“Not alive.”

“But maybe,” Shizuo insists. “For your sisters.”

Izaya forces his lips into another bloody smirk, but Shizuo can tell he’s struck home by the look in Izaya’s eyes. “I can’t really help much. But good luck, I guess.”

Shizuo nods. “I’ll try.”

“For them,” Izaya says, his voice trailing off like he’s glad he’s not really expected to speak anymore. It’s interesting how compliant Izaya actually is, Shizuo thinks. He always lives up to people’s expectations of him, the good ones and the bad. Shizuo wonders what Izaya really wants beneath it all, if living to satisfy everyone else satisfies some need in Izaya.

Fuck. Stupid concussion that he might not even have.

Shizuo refocuses. “Okay, hold this here then. As much pressure as you can,” he instructs, placing Izaya’s right hand over the cloth of Shizuo’s vest still pressed to Izaya’s stab wound. Izaya blinks acquiescence and tightens his hand in the cloth, and Shizuo doesn’t really want to let go, but he doesn’t have a choice.

The doors are easy to pry open, and in the dim light of the elevator it looks like there’s only a wall in front of them. No way out. But then Shizuo looks down in defeat and sees the opening, the empty space at the bottom of the doors that reveals outer doors that, if Shizuo can open them, should lead to the next floor.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Shizuo breathes, bending down to fit his hands through the gap he’s made to pry open the next doors. With his strength, it’s easy. The hallway of the next floor down becomes visible within seconds, and Shizuo smiles out of sheer relief and turns back to Izaya, but Izaya’s eyes are closed and his breathing is labored. Shizuo swallows and thinks about how they’re going to get down.

There’s only about a foot of space they’ll have to slide through to get out of the elevator, and then there’s a six-foot drop to floor. It’s no problem for Shizuo, of course, and if Izaya weren’t bleeding out on the floor behind him, Shizuo wouldn’t be worried at all. But as it is, there’s no way Izaya will be crawling out himself, and Shizuo can’t carry him through. They both have to crawl.

“See, you can’t save me,” Izaya says, voice weak. It’s like the fresh air from the hallway is stirring up the thick scent of blood in the elevator, and Shizuo’s stomach roils as he looks at how pale Izaya is, how his eyes flutter open and closed.

“I can,” Shizuo says. “I’ll go through first, and then pull you down.”

Izaya’s head kind of lulls. “Whatever, Shizuo. Thanks for trying.”

Something in Shizuo feels like it’s coming to a boil. “You’re just giving up. Why are you just giving up?”

Izaya meets his eyes. “I’m dying, Shizuo. I’ve been bleeding out here for at least an hour. I was a hostage in a basement for the week before I got stabbed. I’m not giving up. I’m just being realistic.”

“If you can give me that much of a speech, you can get out of here with me. I’ll go through first. And then I’ll pull you.”

He doesn’t give Izaya much of a choice. Instead, he moves forward and tugs Izaya into his arms, sliding him across the floor of the elevator until he’s resting against the wall next to the opening to the next floor. Izaya issues a little groan, the noise so like a wounded animal that Shizuo feels a strange urge to just curl up with him and press comfort into Izaya’s skin with his hands, his mouth. But that won’t really help anyone.

“Okay, just lie here and keep pressing down on the vest, okay, Izaya?”

Izaya looks at him helplessly, but he kind of manages a nod. He looks resigned to his fate as the object of Shizuo’s newfound savior complex, and Shizuo offers his hand a quick squeeze before he lets go of the cloth and starts sliding through the gap.

It’s easy to reach the floor. Shizuo is tall enough to lower himself through with no problem, his feet hitting the floor with a light thud as he extends his arms and lets go of his hold on the elevator floor.

“Okay, I’m going to pull you through now,” Shizuo says, but it’s harder than he thought it would be. Shizuo is tall but he’s not quite tall enough for this, and with the elevator stuck where it is, Izaya is kind of out of reach. “Izaya,” Shizuo says, and it’s nearly a growl. “Reach through.”

Shizuo is almost surprised when Izaya does. Almost, except for how compliant Izaya has been for the past however long it’s been since Shizuo found him bleeding out on the floor of the elevator. Maybe he’s tired, Shizuo thinks, or just really, really out of it.

“Shizuo,” Izaya says, “I can’t—I can’t reach farther.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” Shizuo says, although it’s still awkward trying to grab Izaya’s hands and tug him through. The angle is wrong, and Izaya is probably bleeding more with how Shizuo is manhandling him, and he can’t keep pressure on the wound anymore because his arms are in Shizuo’s grasp, and then the building shudders a little and the elevator moves, and Shizuo’s blood turns to ice in his veins.

“Shizuo,” Izaya says, a whimper in the back of his throat as the gap widens a little. Shizuo feels relief flood through him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, it made it easier. I got you.”

And he does. With the gap wider and the elevator lower, Izaya is within reach, and Shizuo is pulling him through, and Izaya is trembling and groaning, and then the building shudders again and something feels like it’s moving, and Izaya is emitting some strange high-pitched whine. That more than anything tells Shizuo that something is wrong, like really wrong, and sure enough, the elevator is moving, but this time the other way, and Izaya is halfway out of the box but he’s also halfway in, and he’s going to get cut in half like something out of some poorly written, gore-filled horror movie, and Shizuo uses his strength for perhaps the best thing he’s ever used it for and yanks Izaya through without even trying to be gentle. Izaya is still whimpering a weak sound of utter terror, and Shizuo’s heart is thumping so hard he can feel it hammering against his ribcage, and then Izaya is falling free and Shizuo is stumbling backwards, and they’re collapsing to the floor as the building groans and the elevator box rises away. Izaya is panting hard on top of him and Shizuo can feel the wet stain of Izaya’s blood seeping through his clothing, and there’s something hot and wet against his neck too, and there’s a sound he can’t place, and all at once Shizuo realizes Izaya’s face is pressed into his neck because Izaya is crying.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shizuo finds himself repeating, and then he’s pressing Izaya up, holding him fragile in his arms, and pulling Izaya’s legs around so that he’s cradled in Shizuo’s lap. Shizuo’s vest is nowhere to be found, no doubt lost to the elevator, but he presses Izaya’s hand against his wound anyways. “Don’t stop pressing on this. I’m gonna carry you out now.”

Izaya whimpers and keeps crying, but he dutifully presses his hand where Shizuo puts it. His other arm goes around Shizuo’s shoulders, and Shizuo climbs to his feet and looks around, hoping he’ll find the stairs.

He does. He finds the stairs and thinks it must be a miracle, because they’re unobstructed and sturdy and they go all the way to the ground floor, and Shizuo basically sprints down them until they’re at the bottom. There’s even an exit door at the end of the stairwell, and Shizuo hoists Izaya a little higher in his arms and stumbles through the door into the cool night air.

It’s shockingly easy, actually, in a way that makes Shizuo kind of suspicious—and yet, there’s nothing for it, because they’re outside and Izaya is limp in his arms now, because Izaya is dying, and Shizuo realizes this all at once and takes off running in the direction of Ikebukuro, somehow managing to pull his phone out of his pocket to call Shinra and tell him to be at Shizuo’s apartment in twenty minutes. It’s closer than Shinra’s place, Shizuo tells himself, but really he just goes there because it feels wrong somehow to take Izaya to a place where he might end up out of Shizuo’s sight.

Izaya very quickly ends up out of Shizuo’s sight, however, because Shinra arrives at Shizuo’s apartment right around the time Shizuo and Izaya are getting there and he promptly shutters himself and Izaya in Shizuo’s tiny bedroom, exiling Shizuo to the even tinier kitchen space that doesn’t even have enough room for a chair in it. Shizuo sits on the floor with his back against the refrigerator and watches as Shinra occasionally comes out of the bedroom to hurry into the bathroom for more hot water before he returns to Izaya’s side, shutting and locking the door behind him. On his fourth trip out, he snaps something about how Shizuo should have told him that Izaya was not just stabbed but dying when he called, and the serious tone in Shinra’s voice scares Shizuo more than anything ever, maybe. Because if even Shinra thinks Izaya is dying, then—well, Shizuo really doesn’t want to think about it. His fear must show on his face, though, because Shinra rolls his eyes.

“He’s not dying anymore, Shizuo-kun. Don’t worry so much. I’m a miracle worker!” Shinra sounds entirely too happy while he says all that, and Shizuo feels all the air rush out of him. “Anyways,” Shinra goes on, “Make yourself useful and start boiling water in the kettle. I’ll need it.” Shizuo doesn’t know what it’s for, and Shinra doesn’t tell him.

Apparently the water is for something important, though, because Shinra takes it as soon as it’s hot enough and then disappears for a long while, long enough that Shizuo sits back down on the floor and stares at his faucet, trying not to worry about Izaya dying in his bedroom. He hears the ticking of his watch and starts counting the seconds. It helps, so he smokes a cigarette and counts his inhales and exhales. When the first and then a second cigarette are gone, he runs through the lyrics to his favorite song and counts the beats. The counting helps, but it doesn’t banish the worry, and eventually Shizuo gives up trying to convince himself he’s only concerned about the questions that would arise if someone were to die under his roof.

Shinra emerges sometime in the early morning, his hair messy and his scrubs stained with dark splotches Shizuo doesn’t want to think about.

“He’s stable for now. Somehow. God knows you didn’t do any favors moving him around as much as you did,” Shinra says.

Shizuo frowns. “Did he—tell you anything?”

Shinra laughs. “God, no. He’s been out this whole time. I honestly don’t even know for sure that he’ll wake up. I mean, his odds are, like, 90 percent, assuming I can get him a blood transfusion soon, which is why I’m out here in the first place. I have to go.”

Shizuo freezes. “What? Where?”

Shinra looks at him like the answer should be obvious. “Home. I have blood he can have at home. But you didn’t tell me what was wrong when you asked me to come over here, and Celty is away so she can’t bring it to me. Don’t worry! First train is in twenty minutes, so I can make it home and back in, like forty minutes tops!”

Shizuo shakes his head. “And Izaya is just…lying there. Dying. While you do that.”

Shinra shrugs. “I would give him my own blood, but he’s type O. And I’m AB. So I can’t give him any, even if he could give his to me.”

Shizuo feels relief rush through him. “I’m O. You can give him mine.”

Shinra looks taken aback for a second. It’s a look Shizuo has never seen on him before. “Why are you being so amenable to helping your self-proclaimed worst enemy tonight, Shizuo-kun?”

Shizuo can only shrug. He’s been asking himself that question all night.

“Maybe I have a concussion.”

Shizuo furrows his brow, already getting out the equipment he needs for the transfusion. “Do you feel concussed?”

Honestly? “Not really.”

Shinra quirks a smile and gestures for Shizuo’s arm so he can swab the inner part of his elbow with alcohol. “You don’t seem dizzy and you’re not puking. You have any memory loss? Impaired judgment?”

“Both,” Shizuo says. “I don’t remember getting kidnapped. And I’ve been helping Izaya all night.” The significance of that is only now coming to him, probably because the situation doesn’t feel so dire anymore.

Shinra only shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “Oh, is that what happened? You guys got kidnapped?”

Shizuo shrugs. “More or less, I think. I don’t remember, so I don’t really know. But Izaya said that they got him in his apartment, and I think they got me from here. But like I said, I don’t really remember. They hit me on the head, though. And when I woke up, I was in a burning building.”

Shinra’s eyes widen. “Oh, the one just out of town? I saw it on the news right before you called. They were just sending out the emergency crews before I left. It went up in flames, like, really fast.”

Shizuo nods, winces at the prick of a needle into his arm. “We would’ve gone down with the building if I hadn’t woken up.”

Shinra smiles and shines a light into each of Shizuo’s eyes. “Yeah, they didn’t hit you that hard. You’re fine.”

Shizuo sighs. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“We just have to wait a bit now. For the blood, I mean. And I’ll give it to Izaya.”

Shizuo nods. “I didn’t—hurt him, did I? Did I make it worse by moving him?”

Shinra laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a while. “Shizuo, come on. I told you that building burned down fast. You obviously saved his life. And now you’re giving him your blood. If anything, you’ve done the opposite of making it worse.”

“What do we do now?”

Shinra shrugs, still smiling. “We wait. I give him your blood. Just imagine, Shizuo, your blood will be running through Izaya’s veins in a few minutes.” Shinra seems a little too excited at the prospect, a rather disturbing gleam coming into his eyes. Shizuo sighs. Typical Shinra.

Shizuo is not so chipper. “What if…there’s a chance, right, that he…won’t wake up.”

Shinra shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. Not you, and not even me. For now, all we can do is wait.”

Shizuo takes a short, sharp breath. “Shinra, I…I don’t—what if…”

Shinra puts a comforting hand on Shizuo’s shoulder. It doesn’t help at all. “Shizuo-kun, the only thing you can do now is wait for him.”

Shizuo sighs, and doesn’t feel better, and thinks, yeah, I must be concussed.

 

 

Waiting for Izaya to wake up might be more agonizing than anything else Shizuo has done in the past 24 hours, but somehow, Izaya waking up makes everything worse.

“You have a really, really tiny apartment, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, apparently feeling good enough to be his usual annoying self now that he’s no longer out of it with blood loss and he doesn’t have a probable death by stabbing hanging over his head.

Shizuo rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he grumbles. Shinra laughs. Izaya’s lips quirk into a pout that Shizuo hasn’t ever seen before. It’s cute.

“Shut up,” Shizuo says again, even though Izaya hasn’t said anything.

“Can I go home now?” Izaya asks Shinra, even though he’s hooked up to about four different IVs, all of which contain liquids that Shizuo can’t identify and almost certainly couldn’t pronounce even if Shinra told him what they were.

Shinra shakes his head. “No. I talked to, well,” he looks at Shizuo for a second like he’s evaluating something, and Shizuo remembers the hushed phone call that Shinra had gone outside the apartment to make. “I talked to a mutual acquaintance who said there are still people watching your apartment. You’re actually pretty lucky Shizuo-kun brought you back here. No one will suspect that you’re staying here, Izaya-kun!”

“But they got me from here,” Shizuo says, the sudden realization filling him with dread.

Shinra shrugs. “No one’s watching this place,” he says. “Maybe they didn’t get you from here, and you really do have amnesia.” Shinra sounds pretty happy when he says it, of course, and Shizuo frowns, unconvinced. He hadn’t been thinking about the possibility of future attacks from their would-be murderers.

Izaya huffs out a sigh, blowing hair out of his face. He’s apparently unconcerned. “How am I going to bathe with all these IVs hanging out of me?”

“Shizuo will help you. And I’m taking them all out anyways!” Shinra chirps.

Izaya raises an eyebrow. “Then why would Shizuo need to help me?”

“He will. You’re going to start feeling like you got hit by a truck as soon as the painkillers wear off.” Shinra removes the first IV, and Shizuo pretends not to notice how Izaya flinches.

Izaya acts like he’s fine, even starts up a conversation with Shinra that pointedly doesn’t include Shizuo. Izaya smiles and gestures a little, and Shizuo realizes that with the heavy painkillers, Izaya is kind of high right now. Izaya is charming when he’s talking to Shinra, and Shizuo wonders why Izaya has never looked like this while talking to him, but then again, most of their conversations have been shouting matches in the middle of a chase through the streets of Ikebukuro, so maybe it’s partly Shizuo’s fault that Izaya isn’t like this with him. Izaya is grinning and flicking his delicate fingers around, and Shizuo is standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, watching the scene before him like it’s some strange piece of fiction, a palimpsest of unreality overlaid across the normal space of Shizuo’s room. There is something blooming in his chest that feels almost like affection, and Shizuo watches Shinra and Izaya and realizes that Izaya is beautiful when he feels gets rid of the posturing, when he feels unthreatened.

Only that’s not quite it. It’s not that Izaya isn’t posturing right now, although he’s posturing a lot less than he normally does, probably because of the pain pills, and the intent of his current persona is less manipulation and more…well, really, it’s like Izaya is trying to come off as cute. It’s not that Izaya is ever unattractive, because he’s not, but he’s much, much prettier when he’s trying to get someone’s attention. Which he is. Right now. Trying to get Shizuo’s attention. Because Izaya is talking to Shinra, and he’s making cute little hand gestures towards Shinra, but he is doing it for Shizuo, and he keeps checking to make sure it’s working. Shizuo catches the little stolen glances, the way Izaya is making a show of the fact that he’s not talking to Shizuo, and even though it’s an act that’s creeping back towards Izaya’s usual bravado, Shizuo can see the real Izaya as he converses with Shinra, and the real Izaya is not unlike the vulnerable Izaya of last night in the elevator, and Shizuo kind of likes him.

“Okay, okay, I have to go,” Shinra says after a few more minutes of Izaya monologuing and Shizuo watching silently from the corner. He leaves in a flurry of cables and random medical equipment, and there’s no way it’s sanitary to take that on the train but Shizuo doesn’t say anything, because he’s a little preoccupied trying and failing to come up with a conversation topic that will bring out that endearing, adorable Izaya from earlier when he’s talking to Shizuo and not to Shinra.

“Shizu-chan, I want some ootoro,” Izaya demands when Shizuo reenters the bedroom after letting Shinra out, and Shizuo turns to face him where he rests on the raised platform that holds his futon.

“Stop it. Stop being that Izaya when you’re here with me. Be the Izaya you were five minutes ago, when you were talking to Shinra and being actually genuine. You were all worried about whether I was paying attention, even though you were pretending you weren’t.”

“You noticed that?” Izaya asks, coloring a little bit.

“That you were being the real you?” Shizuo asks.

“That I was trying to get your attention.”

“You’re always trying to get my attention,” Shizuo says, only just now realizing it. It makes everything click into place in his head. He steps forward and strokes hair out of Izaya’s face. “But you can give up on all that. The posturing, and everything. You’re much cuter when you’re just talking to Shinra like he’s a person. Like you’re a person.”

“Why, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, pressing a hand to his heart in mock surprise. “You thought I was acting like a person? How flattering. I thought I was just a flea.”

Shizuo rolls his eyes. Izaya’s sarcasm doesn’t cut at all anymore now that Shizuo has seen the way Izaya is really, now that he knows in his bones that the harshness of Izaya’s needling is all an act. “Stop it. I just said not to be that Izaya.

Izaya suddenly looks a little worried. “Shizuo, I’m going to be that Izaya sometimes. That Izaya is a part of who I am.”

Shizuo nods. “Okay. But you don’t have to be that with me. I can see through it now, so why bother?”

“If you can see through it, then you shouldn’t try to force me out of doing it.”

“It feels safer, doesn’t it?” Shizuo asks, sure that he’s right. Izaya doesn’t say anything, but his blush returns, and he looks away. “Okay, but you’re safe with me. So you can just be genuine, and I’ll still like you anyways. I’ll like you more, actually.”

“And I have to do everything just to make sure that you’ll like me?”

Shizuo shrugs. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m just saying I like you, is all. Not the Izaya that everyone else sees. The one only your friends see.”

Izaya looks kind of lost. Shizuo figures he’s just about laid all his cards on the table now, so he might as well go all in. “If I like the Izaya that only your friends see, then I’ll probably love the Izaya that no one gets to see. I sure as hell wanted to save the vulnerable one I saw last night.”

Izaya is stunned speechless, and Shizuo shrugs and turns to walk out the door. “Tell me if you need any painkillers, or anything,” he says, and then he heads out into the kitchen. He’s been awake nearly 36 hours, and he really needs some coffee and a cigarette or three. He has a headache, and his eyes feel like they’re burning and filled with sand at the same time. Yeah, having Izaya awake is worse than when he was asleep, Shizuo thinks.

He knows he doesn’t mean it.

 

 

Izaya is in a lot of pain. It’s obvious in the set of his jaw, the tension in his brow. He’s not saying anything about it, isn’t saying anything, really, and Shizuo isn’t sure whether he should offer him painkillers and risk upsetting Izaya’s tenuous mood or whether he should just leave it.

“Fuck, I’m never going to get to shower,” Izaya finally complains, his voice wavering. It looks kind of like he’s trying not to tense up or curl around his wound in the fetal position, and his labored breathing and the way his limbs are taut against the futon tell Shizuo that he can’t possibly make things worse by offering painkillers.

“I’ll help you if you take these,” Shizuo says, standing up from the chair at his tiny desk where he’s been messing around on his phone. He holds up the little bottle of pain pills. Izaya looks conflicted, but he gives in and nods after a few seconds of deliberation.

“Fine, but just because of the shower,” Izaya says, and Shizuo scoffs.

“What, you have something against pain pills?” He asks, pouring two pills out into his hand, the prescribed dosage for someone of Izaya’s size, and reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table.

Izaya looks grim. “I don’t like being high like that,” he admits, looking up into Shizuo’s eyes to make eye contact and drive the point home.

Shizuo nods. “Just take the pills and then I’ll get you in the shower, and as soon as you’re done you can go to sleep right as the meds kick in, and you won’t even feel it. The high, I mean.”

Izaya closes his eyes for a few seconds and then nods. He swallows the pills without making eye contact, but when Shizuo helps him sit up and climb carefully off the bed, Shizuo can see that Izaya’s eyes are filled with gratitude, even if they’re shadowed by pain.

 

 

Helping Izaya in the shower proves easier than Shizuo had expected. He has Izaya sit on the floor of the tub and then uses the hand-held showerhead to spray Izaya in warm, soothing water, and Izaya sits quietly and accepts all, even when Shizuo has him tilt his head forward to massage shampoo through his hair. He accepts the soap from Shizuo’s hand and washes himself carefully, and by the end of the shower he’s already seeming a little bit out of it from the pain pills, so Shizuo shuts off the water and helps him out and wraps him up in a towel without saying anything that might prompt unintended honesty from Izaya’s red lips.

“Shizu-chan?” Izaya says out of nowhere as Shizuo is helping him back into his clothes and then into bed, and Shizuo pauses, wondering how he should treat this when Izaya has already said he doesn’t like being high like this. One look in Izaya’s blown-black eyes tells Shizuo everything he needs to know about the informant’s current mental state, so he decides to tread carefully.

“Yeah?” He asks, tugging the blankets up around Izaya’s small frame lying soft in the middle of Shizuo’s futon.

“Why did you help me?”

Shizuo looks at Izaya for a second before he responds. “Wouldn’t you have helped me?” He already knows the answer to the question, but he’s not sure that Izaya does.

Sure enough, Izaya responds, “No.”

But Shizuo only smiles.

“Yeah, you would’ve, Izaya-kun,” he says. Izaya looks startled, but Shizuo just shuts off the light and then climbs in next to him. “Shh. Go to sleep.”


End file.
